


What Made Us This Way

by Clara_Watson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mycroft POV, OC, Pre series, Teen Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6510301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_Watson/pseuds/Clara_Watson





	What Made Us This Way

Mycroft Holmes stood at the corner of the Holmes manor, watching his little brother chase their dog around the yard. It was all Mycroft cold do to keep himself from smiling; there was no reason too, but to see William so happy was something Mycroft could hardly fathom. So there he was, watching his vulnerable little brother, from the shadows, hoping that no one could see the grin spreading across his face. 

Servants came and went, none of them noticing the eldest Holmes, Mycroft shuffled his feet and chewed the sides of his cheeks, hoping to wipe the smile off of his face. Anything to get that smile off his face, if Mother saw this… she’d… she’d…

“Oh!” A woman exclaimed, dropping her book into the rose garden in front of Mycroft, “Sorry sir, didn’t see you there,” she wrapped her auburn hair around her hand then ducked down to pick up her book.

Mycroft shook his head, and quite out of character for the twenty-year-old, bent down and picked up the torn book. The edges were torn, the cover was in no state for consumption, it was old and paper back. The woman before him paled, Mycroft noticed she couldn’t be much younger than himself.

“Sorry, sir, could I please,” Mycroft flipped the book in his hands, it was an old Brontë, and had been read thoroughly, had coffee spilt on it, and occasionally dropped in the bath. Mycroft flipped through the pages, the woman in front of him shuffled awkwardly, “Sir, it’s my mother’s. It’s the only thing she owned, she gave it to me when she passed away.”

“Do you like it?”

“Sorry?” She asked, wrapping her arms around her middle and scuffing her feet.

“The Brontë novel. Do you like it?” She nodded slowly and cautiously, not meeting Mycroft’s eyes. Mycroft grabbed her wrist with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “We have a whole room full of them!”

Mycroft was unsure what had gotten into him, what had triggered his sudden compassion for the woman before him but he couldn’t help himself. He dragged her through the front door of the Holmes Manor (something Mycroft would never have done that morning), and opened the double doors to the library.

The woman caught her breath, her eyes flashing around the hallway, before turning back to the library, “It’s beautiful,” she breathed, “but sir, I’m not allowed here. I’m just the gardener.”

“Mycroft Holmes,” Mycroft extended his hand to her, “and I say you can visit here whenever you feel like it, as long as you don’t damage any of the books.”

“Ambrose Anetta.” She grinned, shaking his hand, “Thank you.”


End file.
